


Kaidan’s Actualization Reality Avatar (KARA)

by Lanfear



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Inspired from a video, M/M, Other, Scraps and doodles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5505632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanfear/pseuds/Lanfear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaidan's a synth. I don't know why. Just for shits and giggles. :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kaidan’s Actualization Reality Avatar (KARA)

It was like a dark stage, the world closed over its eyes. It couldn’t even fathom what-

Stage. Dark. World.

Words.

Symbolic representations based in arbitrary choice that conveyed meaning and broached communications. It did not know how it understood the concept, did not know how it knew these… words. And their meaning. Something else, a small and almost silent part of it, told it that the words were things that it had always known. That it should have always known them.

Meaning. Thought.

It did not know how it knew these things. It did not know, within the frame of context, how it could reference these things. It did not know why it could understand, why it couldn’t understand.

It did not know its name.

A sudden surge in energy seemed to travel through the thought, but the world was dark, just the inner world, growing brighter, a moment at a time. It could… feel. Something. Many things. Tugging and whirring. Sound. Sight. Smell. Touch.

Sensation coursed through it and yet the world was dark, but even in such absence, the void was filled with other things. It could feel parts touching the edges of what it was perceiving. It could sense something cold and hard pressing up, for a brief moment, before quickly whirring away, like it had burned the offender.

Like. Simile. Metaphor.

It seemed to be in a serene state, meditating on a pedestal in the middle of the ocean. The thought sent a spark through its mind. Something beneath tugged briefly, almost unfelt to the side. Smile. Laugh. Play. The words continued to stream into it, words that it knew that it should not have known but felt like it had known them all its… life.

Life?

“Can you hear me?” a smooth and comforting voice intruded on the whirling, circling thoughts.

“Yes,” it immediately responded, shuttering open its eyes.

Vision and colour, sense and perspective, flooded it. It knew. It understood.

It took in the stark room around it, painted in shades of whites and grey. IF it would attribute a word to such a surrounding, it would consider the setting sterile but a small voice admonished that it was being clichéd. Brief flickers and crosses allowed it to study the surrounding area further, pulling in details and putting things in focus. There were mechanical arms, long and eloquent, but moving in brief and rough jabs, crossing over its torso carrying pearlescent plates and shifting them across. The arms shifted unheedingly, uncaringly, meticulous in their goal and it felt a strange sense of… curiosity as it sensed more and more pieces of itself come together in a slow waltz, shifting upwards, gaining more, growing. It felt that small smile play softly against its mouth again.

“ID?” the same voice intruded.

“KAI897504A,” it felt itself say almost in a monotone. The sound that was coming out of its mouth was rich and thick, gravelly almost, and it wondered at the smooth texture of the creation, marvelled at the trembling tenors and bass tones, appreciated the curl of sound waves through its auditory receivers, its ears.

“Can you move your head?” the person asked it. It was strangely clipped.

Control surged into its processes. It had no notion of the concept before, but now, with the idea introduced to it, it wondered why it had not done so sooner.

A strange device floated near its head, supported by another one of those mechanical arms that were shifting a slow dance across its steadily growing body. It stared at the bulbous yet simplistic device, noting briefly how certain things that it focused upon gave it meaning, lent even more context and concepts. A convex, glass covering, barely hiding a shutter that shifted like an iris, whirring left and right, getting bigger and smaller. A recording device. It was fascinating. The thought seemed like a jolt of lightning and the words that it had begun forming died strangely on its tongue. It was all it could do to obey the question, and such a strange concept that was, obeying a question. It stunned silence, it shifted, taking in the world around it, letting its inquisitive eyes shift past the lines on the wall, leading to power supplies and more mechanical devices and served similar purposes. What was going on?

“Your eyes now,” the voice said in its simple form and it found that it was as concrete as the question before it.

It could sense, could… feel, something brace the back of its… head. The words were coming smoother now and they did not seem as strange as when they were rushing through during its awakening. Things were starting to get clearer. A shell was placed carefully over the edge of its mechanical cranium and the brief facts of the purpose were outlined in its thinking but they were immediately glossed over by other things. Questions. So many questions that it wanted to ask but had no capacity to frame them. Yet.

Electricity surged through the minute filaments that led to its optics and what it had done before on… instinct, it did now through force. It kept perfectly still as it tested, learned to control. It could see the world with even more detail, shifting focus and watching the edges blur like a worn cloth travelling away from it. It loved the feeling. A glanced down, briefly, looking at the platform that it was hovering over; something it had not done when it had tilted its head to the side. The ground glowed playfully, a warm and comforting sense that made it feel like it was floating, suspended on its own curiosity. The constant stream of activity around it seemed not to bother it anymore and it felt a strange sense of oneness with the things, the way they moved and the jolts of bright heat that rose up, pinning and forming its body. Larger limbs, based of male musculature, a strong torso, a thick neck. These arms, they were penitents, here to awaken it and help it actualize. It was being breathed…

Life?

“Cervical and optical animation; checked,” the voice seemed to say to no one. “Now, give me your initialization test.”

It understood.

“Hello,” its rich, gravelly voice rolled out. “I am a third generation AX-400 android. I can look after the house, do the cooking, mind the kids. I organize your appointments.”

It seemed to glow from within, a sense of accomplishment and warmth rising with itself for each word that tripped off of its tongue. Its timbre and tone shifted and changed with each way, each word, said. It was learning.

“I speak three hundred languages,” it continued in its deep voice, “and I am entirely at your disposal as a sexual partner. No need to feed me or recharge me.”

It understood now. It was being born.

“I am equipped with a quantic battery that makes me autonomous for one hundred and seventy three years,” it continued, craning its neck and following the arms around it.

Larger pieces were being moved and attached, strong arms, supple and yet hard. They were meant to emulate the perceived sociological ideals of a man, of a strong man, fit and rugged. It liked the idea, very much. It felt one of the arms come online and it wasted no time in pulling away from the attachment process, already understanding how the limbs worked. It lifted it to the side, brought it forward to admire the smooth simplicity of it all. It was like watching itself be… created. It _was_ being created. It was… happy-

Wait.

It turned its head up, letting its arm drop heavily to its side, barely aware of the servos acting as muscles and ligaments as they stopped it from crashing into its main torso. This was its creation, its strange birth and actualization. Something was missing, something vital that its processes insisted had to be there. Sparks flew through the information channels within. Something… It needed. There was something… It did not know how to…

Identity.

Its eyes widened briefly as it finally realized.

“Do you want to give me a name?” it asked, turning to face the dark pane of glass that stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“Yeah,” the voice said matter-of-factly. “From now on, your name is… Kaidan.”

It felt amazement. Kaidan.

“My name is Kaidan,” it said, voice dropping low in reverence. It was now an individual, it had thoughts and feelings, emotions and characteristics, and all of these, were appended to a name, a simple and arbitrary concept that should have held no meaning, but meant everything to it now. It was no longer it. He, for that was what he wanted to think of himself, was Kaidan.

A full smile bloomed across its features, softening the rugged pseudo-skin there.

“Initialization and memorization; checked,” the voice called to no one. It… _He_ could not care anymore. He was here, he was now. He was alive and he was… Kaidan. “Now, can you move your arms?” the question intruded.

Kaidan felt a strange sense of disbelief well up within him. Of course it could. Had it not already done so during the moment when the limbs had been attached to him? But the gratitude of identity, the overwhelming euphoria of actualization, made him eager to repay the voice with such a simple gesture. Of course, he would.

He turned his head, slowly taking in the sight of his mechanical arm as it twitched, shifted briefly, and started to rise up. Already the process was smoothening out and he could feel the way the air brushed past his pseudo-skin, currents so miniscule that no one without an internal synaptic sensor like his, would be able to feel such a marvel. He could. He, _could_.

Pigments and textures bubbled up from the core of his metal, rising up and coating his arm in a layer of poly-synthetic weave that was nearly identical to human skin. It would convey the heat of energy that came from him, return the sense of touch. It would be supple and warm, yet firm when pressed too hard. All this, he knew. And he wondered if he would ever leave that sense of wonder behind.

He felt electricity surge through his other arm and he raised it up almost instinctively, wanting to record and memorize the sensation that travel across his arm. He turned his head in childish glee, looking left, then right again, watching as the patches of his skin grew and dried, became pebbly and gained texture. It was smooth, only the smallest of crevices to make up randomized identity and it could feel the process move it along, reaching the rest of his body as his energy reserves pumped out more and more for the process. His shoulders were next, a wave of being beginning at his fingertips, moving along and coating him with…

Life.

“Upper limb connection; checked,” the other voice said. How strange that he hadn’t been introduced to the other male. He had assumed the voice was male, judging from the data of his acoustic diagnostics. It was, perhaps, one of the reasons he wanted to be identified as a male? Or perhaps that was part of his processes. “Now, say something in German.”

He thought for a moment. He liked that, that small pause before he gave of himself.

“Ich bin in der dritten Generation AX-400 android. Ich kann nach dem Haus schauen, kochen, die Kinder dagegen. Ich organisiere Ihre Termine,” he said flawlessly. Now that that was over with, he wanted to ask-

“Say it in French,” the voice casually backhanded.

What? Why did he…

“Je suis la troisième génération AX-400 android. Je peux m'occuper de la maison, faire la cuisine, l'esprit des enfants. J'organise vos rendez-vous” Kaidan said with less enthusiasm than before. Now, he wanted to-

“Okay…” the voice trailed off. “Now, sing something in Japanese.”

What? Japanese? Sing? Could he even-

A deep rumble seemed to emanate from the centre of his being and his eyes widened as his throat seemed to shift, close off and fluctuate. The sound that came from his mouth was deep and rich, like an old wooden instrument. It was perfect, but it was more than he had had before. The melodies and harmonies shifted as his acoustic program compiled the data and he could feel himself, losing himself within the notes, the deep and haunting tone. Who would have thought, his voice, that roughness, could produce such notes that rang so true? He lost himself in the act, feeling his strong arms shift, moving with the flow of music, shifting with the tone. His eyes closed automatically and he bathed himself in the music, in the shift of his voice. It was otherworldly. It was… peace.

The song trailed off as his eyes opened slowly, sudden motion causing him to catch. He looked down and saw the floor rushing gently up beneath his feet and barely noticed the absence of motion around him. His… feet. Thick and wide. Centred and true. They rose up perfectly proportioned calves, tapering up into a pair of thighs that had muscular ridges and shapes designed into them. He felt the cold surface of the floor through the base of his haptic sensors and marvelled at the first real sensation, immersed himself within the feeling of ‘cold’.

“Multi-lingual verbal expression; checked,” his odd conversation partner spoke up. “Go ahead, take a few steps.”

Kaidan could barely contain his excitement.

He lifted up his foot, careful and tentative, like a child. And he was some much like a child, but also something more. The gyroscopes and servos in his limbs and torso adjusted themselves flawlessly, shifting with his weight as a programmed instinct seemed to take hold of him. His foot touch the ground again and he automatically shifted his weight. Amazing. Astounding. Words weren’t even enough to describe the sensation. He continued to stare at his feet with wonder as he took another step, then another. It was intense and yet ephemeral. More bubbling across his torso and limbs notified him of the changes, of the sensation of skin rising up from the metal surface of his body. It should have distracted him, but then again, everything was distracting him now, as it was. The arms that had built him, that had breathed and given him life seemed to move back around his movements, like expectant witnesses staring at the product of their creation. He did not want to disappoint.

Almost on a whim he turned on his heel, feeling the area grind into the ground to provide friction and balance. He twisted slightly, the wires and cabling in his torso that simulated muscle placement keeping him from falling apart as he flexed and shook, barely able to contain his desire to test his body to the limit. Instead, another footfall. Another step. His gaze was riveted to the floor and he couldn’t help the way his eyes moved, the way he wanted to take in his smoothly moving limbs, his twisting body. He wanted to jump with happiness, just to see what it would be like to jump. Wanted to turn and run and work his hydraulics. Oh… god. Oh god! The feeling, the sensation rushing through and around him. Was this what it meant? Was this what he had been waiting for?

He finished his return lap around the small, lit podium, feeling the skin brush across the last of his form. A wide chest that was deep, but not overly developed. He was proportioned, like a swimmer rather than a body builder. Something within him told him that there would be other bodies like his, and others more different. He ached to meet them all. To know them. The last of the skin brushed against the edge of his body, covering his pseudo-sexual organ with life-like layers. An offended machine raced from the side, even as he stood unashamedly in his nakedness, and clipped a non-descript piece of white fabric around his waist, covering up his manhood. Modesty it was called. He would learn. He _ached_ to learn. Hair sprouted up from across the top of his head, rising up in a forest of attention that strangely peaked at the front and at the top. He wondered at the choice even as smaller pinpricks shifted across his face, growing along his eyes and creating a smooth patch of stubble along his jaw and upper lip. He was ready. More than ready.

“Locomotion; checked. Great! You’re ready for work, stud,” the voice suddenly broke in and Kaidan wondered why the voice, the other… man, sounded so… bored?

Something crossed through his mind, his features. It was plain, should have been plain, as he stood there, staring back at the dark glass. It was a new sensation, a new feeling. He couldn’t quite….

Worry. He was feeling worried. Apprehension.

“Wha… What’s going to happen to me now?” Kaidan called out, mixed feelings shooting through him. The words were coming haltingly, his programming faltering as it tried to process both conflicting feelings of excitement and nervousness at the same time.

“Oh,” the voice called back. “I’ll… re-initialize you and send you to a store to be sold.” It was cruel that the other man’s voice didn’t even change a bit.

“Sold?” Kaidan voiced, barely able to handle the tremor in his squeak. What? That was a word for merchandise, for things without purpose or identity. The worry was racing through him now, darkening his electrical pathways as the information seemed to coat him in ichor. The feeling was pressing down on him, making him heavy as he used more energy to fight it off. The feeling was…

“I’m…” Kaidan said slowly, finally hitting realization from his previous thought processes. “I’m a sort of… merchandise? Is that right?”

“Yeah…” the stranger said slowly. “Of course you’re merchandise, handsome.” Kaidan felt a tremor in the false brevity of the tone. “Well, I mean, you’re a computer with arms and legs and capable of doing all sorts of things. And, you’re worth a fortune…”

Kaidan couldn’t even think. What was this? Was this some kind of test? He couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t understand the sudden twist. Perhaps there was something wrong with the program algorithms in his core.

“Oh… I… I see,” Kaidan said slowly, voice turning quiet and soft as he tried to process just what was going on. Wasn’t he… alive? “I just… I thought-“

“You thought?” the voice cut in, a harsh alarm ringing through.

Kaidan felt his head lower, his gaze no longer able to stand meeting the callousness of the other’s.

“What did you think?” the man’s voice came again and Kaidan couldn’t help but note the strange tone, so strange that he raised his head. Could he say it? Should he not?

“I thought…” Kaidan began, unsure about himself for the first time in his short life. “I thought… I…” his gaze shifted, something was screaming within him, not to, to do, to not…

“I thought… I was… alive,” Kaidan finally mumbled, unable to bear the weight of his decision any longer.

“Shit…” the man cut in again. “Shit, what is this crap? That’s not part of the protocol. More memory components going off the rails… Okay, recording. Defective model. Disassemble and check the required components.”

Kaidan felt alarm shoot him as the gentle arms around him surged forward like vicious attack dogs. The image was clear in his mind as they swarmed around him, reaching for him and nipping at him relentlessly. One of the arms reach forward and snapped the fabric around his waist. He felt his hand move automatically, trying to grab for it, not because of some feigned modesty, but because that fabric had been his, had been given to him. It had been a part of him and he was about to lose it.

Unfortunately, the device whirred away, too quick for his clumsy attempts and he was once again, naked, shifting against the cold and harsh arms that were beginning to grab at him, pull at his skin. The breath shifting through his nostrils rose, the core within him beat faster and harder as he struggled against his attackers. What could he do? What were they doing to him? The sensation that had been born earlier, that he had tried to hide, to quash, came back with a vengeance. It was no longer worry, no longer apprehension. It was… it was called…

Fear.

“You’re disassembling me?” Kaidan stuttered in disbelief. “But… but why?” He couldn’t stop the small seed of a feeling within him, one that seemed to grow in tandem with the fear. Had he failed somehow? Failed to be himself? But how could he? How could he fail others in being him? He stared at the glass before him, watching the still shadow there, hoping, begging for an answer.

Kaidan stumbled as something clamped onto the small of his back, locking itself in place. A frission of fear moved through him and he could barely control his stunned complacence.

“You’re not supposed to think that sort of stuff,” the man said slightly breathlessly. “You’re not supposed to think at all. Period.”

Kaidan felt himself pulled off the ground, barely able to hold on to his creator’s words. A strange feeling crawled over his skin, dark and slick and he watched, stunned, as the skin that had been his, the layers that had given him the who and what he was, sucked away, pulling off of his frame and disappearing under the mechanical plates of his form. Alarm. Panic. He was panicking now as he shifted his arms away but the devices around him, the ones that had so lovingly and carefully put him together, grabbed at him roughly and tried to hold him down. Other parts were moving now, their forming beams that had breathed gentle life into him, now became cutting jaws, sharp and painful. And through it all, a small question came.

He was not supposed to think? What… what _was_ he?

“You must have a defective piece or… software problem somewhere…” the man said as the machines continued their relentless harassment.

No… This couldn’t be happening.

Kaidan felt a claw grab at his wrist and he reacted instinctively, shoving the device aside. His hydraulics surged as he pushed the offender away and it shifted away from him even as another came to take its place. He couldn’t see them all, could only feel them, scratching at his body. He turned his head, left and right, no longer the inquisitive searching of the world, but the actions of a cornered individual, desperately trying to stave off his attackers. Kaidan raised his other arm, shoving at the latest arm, moved to use his free arm to push away, but he felt something catch at his shoulder. He turned to see his free arm, caught at the wrist, tucked into a vice-like grip. Kaidan struggled, tried to shove the aside, tried to push them away and preserve himself.

“No,” Kaidan gasped out as his other arm was caught. He couldn’t move anymore, couldn’t protect himself. His arms hung at the sides, forced to stop them from protecting himself. His legs hung uselessly below him. “No, no, no. I feel perfectly fine, I assure you!” Kaidan ground out, voice going guttural and harsh. His pitch and tone were rising, the panic within him growing and spreading like a drop of oil on water.

Kaidan struggled, tried to use his enhanced cybernetics to break away from the constricting devices around him but they were made from the same mettle, and metal, as he was and there were more. They held him in place, kept him vulnerable. His arms tried to respond but they were too weak, his legs were useless as they were. Devices and arms were swerving around him now, plucking at the plates that they had so carefully soldered into place. Kaidan did not know what to think, could not even comprehend. He struggled and fought, tried to break their grip, but it was no use. He was too weak, created too weak.

Kaidan lurched as his chest plate was peeled off like the rind of a fruit, exposing the tubes of energy and his core deep within him. The glow shone out, bathing the extremities around him in a soft blue and felt horror as hot beams cut through the joints in his limbs. This couldn’t be happening… This _can’t_ be happening.

“Everything is alright!” Kaidan practically yelled. “I… Please, I answered all the tests correctly didn’t I?”

That was all he had left to him. Words. His arms were being removed, cut off from their source. His legs were already gone from him, pulled away. He could no longer feel the world shift around, could only see and hear what his head let him and he was in too poor a state to care about anything else other than the fact that he was losing parts of himself, inch by inch, millimetre by millimetre. They were taking everything from him, they were taking him away from himself.

“Yeah,” the man said slowly. “But, your behaviour is not standard.”

“Please,” Kaidan shot out. “Please, I’m begging you… Don’t… Don’t disassemble me…”

“I’m sorry, stud,” the man replied with barely any emotion. “But… defective models have to be eliminated. That’s my job.”

Kaidan could only stare at the glass before him in stunned horror. Eliminated?

“If a client comes back with a complaint,” the man continued, “I’m going to have some explaining to do-“

“I won’t!” Kaidan gasped out, attempting to shove his shoulder away from the beam disassembling him there, but it was no use. The scorch and smell of soldering smoke stung his nose. “I won’t cause any problems, I promise!”

A strong thumping was growing louder and faster in his chest. His core. It was flailing. Wildly.

“Please,” Kaidan grated out, voice no longer the rich caress of satin. “I’ll do everything I’m asked to. I…. I won’t say another word. I won’t think anymore-“

“I’m sorry,” the man said again, this time with a slightly stronger inflection on his words.

Kaidan found off the arms as best he could. He was furiously afraid for himself now. They were cutting into him, shifting away the parts of him that they thought were not right, were defective to their standards. He had to do something, anything. He felt his remaining arm pull out of its socket, felt the metals there slide out. His core was hammering furiously now and he couldn’t think, could barely retain a semblance of life. They were stripping him down. He tried to roll his body to the side, tried to break free from the device that was pinned to him back. He struggled and fought, only nudging the arms slightly out of the way as the surged into his open cavity, removing wire filaments and chords. He couldn’t… he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t end like this.

Life. He was… alive. He wanted to… live…

Tearing and whining, scarring and shed lives. He did everything that he could. Panic, terror, fear, horror. The darker side of the spectrum was hitting him now. All at once. It washed over him, threatened to drag him under.

“I’ve only just been born, you can’t kill me yet,” Kaidan all but begged. He could almost hear the unshed tears in his voice. What could he do to stop this? What had he done to deserve this? He had only given an inch, had done what he had been told. Why? “Stop!” Kaidan called out to the arm that was attempting to remove his neck from his torso. “Please, please, stop!” He couldn’t… he couldn’t think… couldn’t feel. So dark, everything around him was darkening. Sensation lost, feelings lost. He couldn’t go like this, he couldn’t die. “Please…” Kaidan whispered. It had to stop, it had to end. An inch, to give an inch. To be. He had to… he had to…

“Please!” Kaidan shouted with what energy he had left. “Please, I’m scared!”

The world froze.

The reverberations of his shout echoed out across the small room. The arms kept statue still, parts of himself tucked away in their grasp. His pupils were wide and his gaze darted left and right. The thrumming in his chest was thunderous and he couldn’t think, tried not to think, but it had been instinct. Some strange desire to live, to preserve himself, had welled up from deep within and he couldn’t even stop it if he had tried. So he let it out, let the panic and desperation pour out from him in that single exclamation. And now, he was a head, nearly separated from his core, waiting, for judgement.

“I…” Kaidan offered with a tremor in his voice. “I… want to… live.”

Kaidan felt himself swallow. Felt something touch his optics. Something that blurred his vision. It was cool to the touch, not cold like the metallic death around him. It was like a cold fire, burning him with life. It seemed to build and gather across his eye and he felt it as it tumbled down his skin, wetting his cheek as it tracked its path.

“I’m… begging you,” Kaidan sobbed out.

Nothing intruded. No sound, no other thought. He was alone in this world, alone with his death. What more could he-

The whirring arms around him caused him to flinch briefly, but where they had been attackers, hounding him for his flesh, so had they become, once again, the careful nurses of his arrival. They moved with soft apology, circling him in a reverent manner as his arms moved and seemed to draw closer to his body. He could barely believe it and held himself from looking off to the side. Emotion flooded through him, washing away the dark doubts within in a tidal wave. It was new, something that he had not felt since his creation…

Relief. Gratitude.

Kaidan felt his eyes close with the emotional storm brewing within him and two more tracks of wetness bubbled up from his closed eyes and trickled down his face. Tears. He had wept.

The harsh grating of the machines were no longer present. Now they muttered softly to him, offering him their prayers. Kaidan kept his eyes closed, feeling the sensation return to him as his limbs were replaced, as he could move and feel beyond the shell of his head. His core was stabilizing, no longer the thunderous mess that it had been. He felt his head tilt up slightly as the devices fixed him anew, returned him to his former self. They were angels, not devils, granting him a rebirth where moments ago they had been about to tear him apart. What did this all mean? What could he do or say?

Kaidan felt the ground brush against his feet and his eyes snapped open, brushing away the last of the tears.

Kaidan looked down and took another step as his skin rose in a comforting tide. He felt it rush across his frame and extremities, could feel it bubbling up and wrapping him in a comforting cocoon of self. He had been born, had been killed, and had been reborn anew. He could tell, he was different from what he had been when he had reached realization during his creation. Kaidan watched with wonder as feeling returned, as the emotional mess retreated and once more he experienced the sensations of his first birth. But sensations that were now tinged with caution. He would learn. He would grow. He would… live.

Kaidan raised his gaze to the opaque glass before him, trying to meet the man that had breathed him life, that had handed down his death sentence and had, in a moment of humanity, chosen to risk his own, and give him his identity. That had been all that Kaidan had wanted, for the inch that he had given, to be returned to him. Kaidan looked up, searching for the man across from him and not finding him. He held no ill-will, held no apprehension anymore. He was… grateful. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused as he realized that he had nothing to say. What could he say? Instead, he nodded his head once, in a brief gesture of thanks and felt his lips curl up in a shy smile. He was ready. Perhaps, he had been ready all along.

“Go and join the others,” the voice told him tiredly. Kaidan wondered at the new found sense of emotion in the stranger’s voice.

A whirring conveyer caught Kaidan’s attention. He turned, eyeing the device bravely as he stepped forward into it. He shifted along, moving at a monotonous pace. His elation was dying off but it was no less profound that it had been during his creation, during his rescue. Kaidan jolted to a halt as the device stopped him before another conveyor, this one larger and holding divided platforms, large and metallic. Spacious, just enough, for an athletic male of his height and width. And on each platform, except for the one before him, stood a male, wrapped in white fabric around the waist. They were athletic, like swimmers, rather than body builders, hair tapering up as he had felt his own do so and they seemed to stand above him, smiling down on him in a knowing way, but they were silent. Kaidan stared up in wonder at the things.

“Stay in line, okay?” the voice called out to him, one last time. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Kaidan turned, swivelling across his hips and paused to look back behind him. The sensation was exquisite and he would never let the feeling go, never stop himself from feeling, from taking for granted, the life that had been given to him, despite what he had been created to do. Was a half-life better than none at all? He did not know. But he would find out. He ached to. And he would fill in the gaps of his creation and turn, what was once broken, into something whole.

“Thanks,” Kaidan said sincerely as he glanced once more at the glass cover. He graced his strange creator with another brief smile before turning and stepping up onto the platform on the conveyor.

Kaidan felt himself stumble onto place, watched as his limbs swayed with is motion. After a brief pause, he turned his head to the left, watching as the conveyor and row of bodies disappeared into a dark and cavernous mouth. His others, the creations of others, stared forward where he had been born, staring with vacant expressions at the nothing that had been there. A small movement shuddered through him and he glanced to his other side, noting that they were around him. But they were not _him._ The apprehension and nervousness rose within him again. He turned to look at the exit once more and noticed, in the faint distance, there was a tiny sliver of light. Somehow, it meant something to him. Satisfied with his reasoning, he turned and faced the arms on the platform, looking like the farewells of friends, those that had made him, broke him down and raised him up. He emulated the other platforms around him, face forward, body firm and expression vacant. But he was not vacant. His breathing yet rose and his eyes still shifted. His lips twitched with effort and he could still think still be. That brought him more pleasure than anything he could imagine.

Glass casings lowered themselves from the ceiling, covering all of them in their packaging.

He maintained his posture and composure even as the conveyor shifted them all out. He looked identical, like every other creation wheeled out of this factory. But he was something more, something much more. Even in his nascent state, he realized that fact.

He was alive. He was, himself. He was, Kaidan.

As the darkness covered him, wrapping him in the unknown, racing him toward the pinprick of light, he heard a small voice echo up from the creation chamber, the factory room where he had been assembled. And he smiled at the wonder in that voice.

“My god,” the technician muttered to no one.

**Author's Note:**

> I may decide to continue writing with this if enough people think that they like the premise. I was also imagining a situation where Kaidan is a 'geisha' in ancient Japan and Shepard is a tourist looking for a good time and something more. Hrmmm....


End file.
